


Sparks

by tatterwitch



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Alpha/Beta/Omega Dynamics, Bottom Keith (Voltron), Fingering, Mating Cycles/In Heat, Miscommunication, Multiple Orgasms, Mutual Pining, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Top Shiro (Voltron), handjobs
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-30
Updated: 2018-03-30
Packaged: 2019-04-14 19:38:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,213
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14143119
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tatterwitch/pseuds/tatterwitch
Summary: Keith arches into the first touch.A seam in his pants makes a popping noise in protest of his eagerness to get them out of the way. Sweat makes his shirt stick to his back.Fingers ghost down his stomach, sifting through the trail of hair beneath his navel. The faint line between Shiro's brows deepens. Almost like he's concentrating hard on something. He's probably trying to distance himself...Keith swallows hard and tries to stay still when Shiro shifts between his clumsily-spread knees. He almost takes it all back. This was too much to ask-





	Sparks

**Author's Note:**

> Shout-out to the lovelies of the Discord Chat who constantly inspire me to write filth. I love y'all.

Keith arches into the first touch.   
  


A seam in his pants makes a popping noise in protest of his eagerness to get them out of the way. Sweat makes his shirt stick to his back.   
  


Fingers ghost down his stomach, sifting through the trail of hair beneath his navel. The faint line between Shiro's brows deepens. Almost like he's concentrating hard on something. He's probably trying to distance himself...   
  


Keith swallows hard and tries to stay still when Shiro shifts between his clumsily-spread knees. He almost takes it all back. This was too much to ask-   
  


Shiro's thumb daubs over the crown and Keith chokes back a whimper.  
  


"Are-" Shiro's voice catches a little. "Are you always this wet?"   
  


His fingers are slick with it as he explores. Keith bites the inside of his cheek, hard, before shaking his head jerkily.  
  


Shiro's eyes flick down, hair falling softly over his forehead as he shifts again. His lips part a little and Keith has to close his eyes and press his own together tightly to keep from leaning forward then...Just to see if they are as soft and sweet as they look.  
  


With his eyes closed, though, he has no forewarning when Shiro's fingers wrap around his base and slowly slide up.   
  


Keith's breath burns in lungs and escapes on a strangled whimper. His hips lurch. The sheets protest under his nails.  
  


Shiro sets a slow pace, grip loose and careful. His lashes lift and Keith loses himself in smoke darkened in the shadows of the room. A flush turns his cheeks a ruddy color and Keith wonders how far the color would spread.  
  


Coherent thought quickly burns away when Shiro’s fingers tighten and twist on the upstroke. 

  
Keith jerks, nearly doubling over Shiro’s hand. His nails catch at Shiro’s wrist. 

  
“Shiro-” Keith can barely breathe. “‘M gonna-”

  
Cool fingers skim up his side and hover over his shoulder before sliding higher, into his hair and behind his ear. Keith leans into the touch, mouth dropping open.

  
“It’s okay, Keith. Let go.” 

  
Keith bites hip lip hard as his body arches. A loud noise still worms its way past his teeth. Wetness spatters over his belly and chest as he shakes under Shiro’s hands.

  
There’s a moment of quiet. Keith lets himself sag into the hands on his hip and neck. His racing heartbeat slows but the heat under his skin hasn’t faded. He can still feel his cock lying hot and heavy against his stomach. Frustration and embarrassment make the crawling burn even worse.

  
“Hey,” Shiro’s thumb presses against the corner of Keith’s jaw gently.  
  


Keith glances up at the softness of Shiro’s voice. 

  
“You said that this might happen. It’s okay. Really. We...I can try again.”

  
Keith’s throat squeezes tight and so he nods instead, a quick, jerky thing. 

  
“Please?”

  
“Let’s get you out of these, first?” Shiro makes it sound like a question, leaving room for Keith to back away. He always leaves room. 

  
A different kind of warmth makes Keith’s chest ache. He tries to push it down and works, instead, on toeing his boots off.

  
Shiro bends to help and Keith can’t help but admire the broad lines of those shoulders. The thin, dark fabric of Shiro’s shirt didn’t do much to conceal the easy flex and roll underneath. 

  
Keith’s pants and boxers hit the floor with a muffled sort of sound. 

  
Shiro straightens and resettles between Keith’s legs. His chest swells with a deep breath. His hands slide up Keith’s legs with a sort of inexorable slowness. Those smoke-and-shadow eyes capture Keith’s.

  
Fingers, still tacky and warm, wrap around his cock.

  
Keith falls apart under Shiro’s hands again. 

  
Deft, calloused fingers learn the spots that make his hips jolt, make his mouth drop open, make his heart race and his vision blur. 

  
Shiro leans over him, knees pressing against the inside of his. Sweat darkens his shirt and hair. 

  
Keith leans against the wall of the bunk, arching into those broad palms and blunt fingers. The sheets stick to his skin and wrinkle under his aching knuckles. 

  
“Shiro-”

  
He bites his lip when Shiro flicks his wrist faster. 

  
“More.” Keith groans, wriggling. Slippery wetness makes the sheets stick to the backs of his thighs. 

  
He swallows hard and reaches down, fingers pushing in on one easy slide. Shiro makes a sound, quiet and strangled. 

  
Cool fingers skate against Keith’s knuckles. 

  
“Keith-” Shiro’s voice is breathy. “Can I? Do you want-”

  
The sheets whistle as Keith moves. Words. Words are something he should use. But they’re beyond him. Fire burns them all away, eats up every thought when Shiro tugs his wrist away and rubs the pads of his prosthesis over Keith’s hole. Sparks burst along his skin when Shiro carefully presses, presses…

  
“Fuck,” The word rips its way from Keith’s throat.

  
His head connects with the wall with a noise that makes Shiro glance up with some concern. 

  
“Don’t stop. Shiro, don’t stop. Please. Please, don’t stop.”

  
Shiro doesn’t. The tendons in his wrist flicker. The pads of his fingers rub and make sparks fly along Keith’s spine. Shiro’s lower lip pops from between his teeth, shining and red. 

  
Keith leans up, want singeing the last whisper of warning from his mind.

  
Shiro tastes like mint and bitter chocolate. His teeth click painfully against Keith’s and copper mars the dark, sweet taste. Keith laps the metallic taste away and gasps as Shiro stretches his fingers apart. 

  
A hoarse, broken sound falls from his mouth when Shiro adds another finger. Teeth catch on his lower lip and tug. White hair drifts past his vision, brushing over his forehead in a way that was so at odds with, well, everything else. The slick sounds of Shiro’s fingers. The warm tickle of Shiro’s breath over his cheeks. The hot, wet press of Shiro’s mouth against his own.

  
“There you go. C’mon, Keith-”

  
Keith arches, cry rattling in his throat. He shakes apart as Shiro murmurs against his lips and slowly lightens his touches.

  
Quiet fills the room as Keith comes back to his senses. Satisfaction makes his eyelids and limbs heavy. He twitches a little when Shiro pulls away, wrinkling his nose in discomfort. 

  
Shiro.

  
Keith stiffens, lazy warmth quickly giving way to hot prickling that crawled between his shoulders and down his spine. His chest squeezes tight. He stoops, fingers trembling, and grabs at his pants. 

  
“Keith-”

  
Shiro reaches out, catching his wrist. Pink still rides high on his cheeks. 

  
“Was that okay? I- I didn’t...Overstep, did I?”

  
“Overstep? Shiro, no. No. You didn’t.”  
  


Keith fists his pants, knuckles bleaching. The metal of his belt clinks in the sudden silence. Shiro’s mouth is red. He did that. He overstepped. Shiro would never look at him the same way, now. This was just another thing Keith had ruined. 

  
Keith stands and jams his legs into his pants. He doesn’t bother to do the zip, just holds them closed and grabs for his boots.

  
“I did. I’m sorry. This was too much to ask. I- I’m sorry.”

  
The door hisses open under a haphazard slap from his palm. Shiro’s voice issues from beyond it as it shuts. 

  
Keith clenches his teeth and tries not to run down the hall.


End file.
